


Two Vodka Martinis: Extra Dry, Extra Olives, Extra Fast

by PinkEasterEggs



Series: IronDad Prompts To Warm And Break Your Heart [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Iron Man 1, Charity Gala, Harry Potter References, Iron Man 1, Kid Peter Parker, Light Angst, Party, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Poor Peter, Precious Peter Parker, Spoilers For Prisoner Of Azkaban, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18980509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkEasterEggs/pseuds/PinkEasterEggs
Summary: “Well, Tony Stark, fancy seeing you here.”Tony’s expression went blank as he searched the woman’s face, a hand moving out as he took a guess at her name. “. . . Karen.”“Christine,” she spoke over him. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here tonight. Can i at least get a reaction from you?”“Panic,” Tony supplied, looking to the side and trying his best not to look at his young son’s confused face. “I would say panic . . .”Tony takes his son, Peter, to the Stark Industries' Annual Benefit for the Firefighter's Family Fund where they run into a face Tony would rather forget.#4: Gala/ Press Event





	Two Vodka Martinis: Extra Dry, Extra Olives, Extra Fast

**Author's Note:**

> I love Iron Man 1 so much and i think Christine Everheart is an under-appreciated gem
> 
> \- Peter is Tony's biological child  
> \- The events of Iron Man 1 didn't happen (Tony went to Afghanistan but wasn't captured by the Ten Rings, so therefore didn't become Iron Man-- this story just looks at what would have happened if Peter had been his kid in a world where Tony wasn't a superhero)  
> \- As Iron Man 1 took place in 2008, Peter is 7 and has been in Tony's life almost since his birth (as his mum died shortly after)

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Tony frowned as he walked into his 7 year old son’s room. The Stark Industries’ Annual Benefit for the Firefighters’ Family Fund had already started a good 20 minutes ago with Tony planning to turn up with son fashionably late. But it turned out Peter had other plans, considering he was laying on his bed, in his pyjamas, and reading a book.

“I’m busy,” Peter replied, his eyes never leaving the page.

“Put your book down Peter,” Tony forced himself to not get frustrated. It wasn’t like he’d sent his son to get ready half an hour ago to which the boy obviously ignored his instructions to get dressed. “We have somewhere to be.”

“5 more minutes Dad,” Peter turned the page of his book, completely ignoring his father’s increasing annoyance.

“No Peter, now!” Tony tried not to snap but at the same time, attempted to assert his parental dominance. There weren’t many times that he ever forced Peter to do something (he was a rather lax parent in all honesty) but when he did make orders, he expected them to be followed.

Peter, sitting on his bed and reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban whilst still in his pyjamas, was very clearly not following his orders.

“I’m almost at the end of the chapter!” Peter whined, sparing one glance at his frowning father. “Ron just got dragged into the Whomping Willow by a dog! I have to read on!”

Tony rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. Whilst he was incredibly pleased that his young son had such a passion for reading, it was vastly infuriating that he managed to be such a bookworm when they had places to be. He glanced at his watch, sighing when he noticed how late they were going to be. The phone in Tony’s pocket buzzed, no doubt receiving another few thousand texts from Pepper as she chastised them for being so late.

“Peter, you can read in the car. All i’m asking is you get dressed, please.”

“Hang on,” Peter frowned, his eyes frantically moving across the page.

“No Peter,” Tony frowned even harder. If this had been him with Howard, Tony would’ve found himself on the receiving end of a shouting tirade and possibly a bruised bottom. (In a secret way, Tony was happy that Peter was so relaxed about defying his father’s orders because it meant he was comfortable enough and felt safe enough to not receive a violent or loud punishment.)

“Please Dad—“

“Peter—“

His son ignored him once again and this time Tony decided he’d had enough. He cleared his throat loudly, a swell of mischievous growing in him as he began to speak. Tony was sure this crossed a line but Peter was testing his patience.

“The dog is Sirius Black and it turns out he didn’t betray Harry’s parents. The real person who betrayed the Potter’s was Peter Pettigrew who is actually Ron’s rat, Scabbers. Also, Professor Lupin is a werewolf and best friend’s with Sirius Black. They go to turn Pettigrew in but he escapes so Sirius is still blamed for Harry’s parents’ deaths and has to continue being on the run, meaning Harry can’t live with him like they wanted because he’s Harry’s Godfather.”

By the end of his spoiler alert, the book had gone slack in Peter’s grip and his son was staring at Tony with wide eyes and a jaw that dropped down to the floor.

“If you’re not ready in the next 10 minutes then i’ll tell you the ending to the next book— and trust me, that one is far juicier.” He walks out of his son’s room, the 7 year old still staring with a look of shock at his retreating father’s back, with a feeling of guilt and pride. 

It turned out that the threat of spoiling the ending to Peter’s favourite series was the perfect motivation to get his son ready. Before the 10 minutes was even up, Peter was slowly walking out of his bedroom dressed in a black tux that matched Tony’s and his hair brushed neatly.

“Ah, finally,” Tony smiled at the young boy only to be met with a glare. He rolled his eyes as he placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, moving his young body to the elevator so they could eventually get on their way to the charity gala they had meant to be fashionably late to but now were just late to.

“I’m not talking to you,” Peter pouted as the elevator doors closed and they began to move down to the garage. 

Tony chuckled, knowing his son would get over his impromptu spoiling before the night was over. Peter had this beautiful trait of never being able to hold onto anger for long— Tony had no idea where it came from as it certainly wasn’t picked up via him.

“But you did just then,” Tony pointed out as the elevator doors opened and he made his way over to one of his flashy sports cars. Normally, he refused to drive anything fast with Peter sitting in the passenger seat but this was a special event so he decided he could make an exception. Just from the way that Peter’s eyes bugged slightly at the prospect of sitting in one of his Dad’s red and shiny Ferrari’s made Tony smile.

They climbed into the leather plush seats, Peter staring at the inside of the car with awe. The young boy’s eyes widened even further (if it was possible) when Tony turned on the engine and the vehicle roared to life. Once the childlike awe had worn off, the boy resumed his anger and crossed his arms with a pout.

“You ruined my favourite book,” Peter grumbled as if Tony had ruined his life (which to his innocent brain, he had).

“I asked you nicely to get ready, kiddo,” Tony shrugged as he sped through the Californian streets. He was very wary to not go too fast considering he had precious cargo sitting beside him. 

“You didn’t have to ruin it!” Peter whined.

“You didn’t have to ignore my orders,” Tony shot back. He spared his son a look, Tony’s heart pulling at how wide Peter’s eyes were and the way they were filling up with tears. “Alright, i’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ruined it bud. How about i buy you ice-cream as an apology later?”

Peter seemed to consider it before nodding. “You have to get me ice-cream every day after school for this whole week!”

Tony scoffed. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“You told me that Peter Pettigrew was Ron’s rat! And that he was the one who betrayed Harry’s parents!” Peter’s voice went up in octaves as he relived the horrifying spoilers his young ears had been broken by. “I think that deserves ice-cream for a week.”

Tony laughed, wondering how it could be possible to love someone as much as he loved Peter. The boy was so young and innocent that it simply broke his heart at the mere thought. “Sure bud,” he smiled before pulling up by the curb where the Gala was in full swing. “Ice-cream for a week it is.”

“Yay!” Peter yelled, his hand on the door as he prepared to jump out. 

“Wait kiddo,” Tony turned to his son, a look of seriousness crossing his features now. “You remember our rules, yes?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Yep!”

“What are they?”

“No running off, no leaving with someone who isn’t you— unless it’s Aunty Pepper. Think before i speak; tell you when i go to the toilet so you don’t get scared when you don’t see me . . . oh and no asking for any alcoholic drinks, even if it’s a joke.”

Tony smirked, mentally cringing at why the last one had been made into a rule. His son had decided to make a joke to some socialites one time about how he wanted to have a ‘Vodka Mar-tiny’ and considering Tony’s past, the audience hadn’t taken too kindly to the child’s joke.

“‘Atta boy,” Tony nodded as he opened up his door so he could pass the antsy valet his car keys. “Now let’s show this Gala whose boss.”

“Yay!” Peter cheered as he jumped out the car, waiting for his Dad to walk around the length of the Ferrari like he knew he should. Tony had instilled the thoughts of stranger danger and consequences of running off into Peter from a young age; as a public figure, it wasn’t foreign for children of famous people to be stolen from their parents as ransom or cold-blooded payback. 

There weren’t many things that Tony was sure of: his career of designing weapons sometimes made him doubt his ethics, his playboy behaviour made him question how good of a role model he was to his son and there were many times that he wondered if he would ever be good enough for Peter.

One thing Tony was sure of, something he knew to be true deep down in his soul, was that if anything ever happened to Peter and it was his fault: Tony would die. 

So Tony smiled when the young boy slipped his tiny hand into his father’s, the physical presence calming his nerves and fears of some maniac reaching out and grabbing his son without Tony being able to do anything. 

“Mr Stark! Mr Stark, do you have any comments? Who are you wearing tonight Mr Stark? Is that your son? Any comments Mr Stark? What do you think of Hammer Industries trying to steal your military contract Mr Stark? Are you romantically involved with your assistant? Whose your son’s mother Mr Stark? Will you stop for pictures?”

The yells of the paparazzi and the journalists were deafening as Tony and Peter passed them, the young boy walking closer to his Dad and shying away from the bright camera flashes that burned the pairs retinas. Despite being in the public eye, Peter’s existence was still rather kept in the dark. People knew that the playboy Tony Stark had a son but details about the young boy’s life was hidden: his name wasn’t public knowledge, the fact that his mother had died shortly after his birth resulting in Tony taking custody wasn’t known by anyone other than Pepper, Rhodey and Obie and due to Peter’s shyness from the cameras, his face was hardly ever seen in pictures. 

“Hey Tony,” a blonde woman in a skin-tight red dress batted her eyelashes at him as she licked her lips. “Do you remember me?” Her voice was husky and low and if he didn’t have Peter squeezing one of his hands whilst the other was fisted into Tony’s suit jacket, he might have played along.

“Sure don’t,” he brushed her off, darting around the now-frowning woman as he directed his son inside to where the paparazzi and news hungry journalists would not be.

“Dad,” Peter’s voice was quieter than normal as they walked inside the large hall where people in elegant dresses and expensive suits were mingling and drinking. Peter dropped his Dad’s hand now that they were out of the potential danger. “Why do all those people always try to talk to you?”

“Well bud,” Tony paused for a second as he rested one hand on the top of his son’s neatly combed head. “Dad’s kind of a big shot.”

There was a scoff from someone in front of them. “Don’t let his ego fool you, Peter. Your Dad is just very smart and people demand his brains.” 

Pepper stood before them, her red hair cascading over her shoulders in controlled waves as she stood tall in a floor-length blue dress that made Tony’s mouth water slightly. He always knew his assistant was beautiful but seeing her so dressed up was giving him ‘butterflies in the stomach’ (as Peter would say).

“Pep, you look. . .” Tony trailed off— only to be beaten to the chase by his son.

“Aunty Pepper you look so pretty!” Peter beamed up at her, his toothy grin making the woman coo as she ducked down to kiss his sightly chubby cheeks.

“You look very handsome yourself Peter,” Pepper smiled at her Boss’ son with a look of admiration and love that was reserved only for the 7 year old boy.

“Hey bud,” Tony looked at his son, breaking his staring at Pepper. “Why don’t you go get a drink from the bar. Remember our rules.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he wandered off, muttering words under his breath. Tony was sure he heard his son grumble about how he definitely didn’t look 21.

The second Peter was gone, Pepper’s expression went straight to being stern. “I know you like being fashionably late Tony but you’re almost 40 minutes late! This is your company’s Gala!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Blame the kid, he wasn’t ready when i asked him to be.”

“Why did you bring Peter?”

“Uhh— because i wanted to?” Tony frowned, wondering why Pepper was glaring at him.

“This is a company Charity Event Tony,” Pepper berated him. “Not really a place to bring a child— no one else brought their kids!” Tony had to admit she had a point as he scanned the room to find that the only guests were stuffy old people in fancy clothes. 

Tony shrugged in his usual nonchalant way. “As you said: it is my company’s Gala. If i want to bring my kid, i can.” He tried not to wither under Pepper’s glare, managing a full 5 seconds before caving. “Okay, the truth is, i didn’t want to leave him alone all night.”

“Rhodey was free to babysit,” Pepper pointed out.

“I’m not really sure why but after Afghanistan, Peter’s been far clingier than usual. I don’t know why, i was only gone for 3 days! But yesterday when i told him that i would be going out tonight, he went all funny and started crying.”

“It sounds like separation anxiety,” Pepper sighed, relenting on the subject as the pair watched Peter sitting on one of the bar stools, sipping some kind of juice with a small umbrella laying in the glass. Tony smiled as he watched his son twirl the umbrella around.

“I have been going away quite a bit recently,” Tony admitted.

“And going out at nights,” Pepper added with slight judgement to which Tony ignored. He always received an earful from his assistant about his dating tactics, knowing that Pepper was getting to the end of her tether about shooing the woman out of his house before they could run into Peter.

“He’ll probably grow out of it with age,” Tony hoped, shrugging it off. Pepper hummed in agreement. Just at that moment, Peter spotted them in the crowd, waving at them with childlike enthusiasm. He nodded towards the dance floor with a pointed look, making Tony chuckle.

“I think my son is telling us to dance,” Tony smirked as he took Pepper’s hand and started to move her towards where couples were slowly waltzing around the marble dance floor.

“Oh no, no, no,” Pepper shook his head as red started to dot around her cheeks. She looked over her shoulder as they started to dance together, a look of embarrassment setting her features.

“It’s just a dance,” Tony shrugged as he placed his hands in the appropriate places and began to slowly move back and forth.

 

From across the room, Peter smirked into his cranberry juice as he watched his Dad and Aunt Pepper dance. He knew his Dad liked Peter’s Aunt (even if he’d never admitted it) and he liked to watch them loosen themselves up and have fun every now and then. They seemed to be bickering on the dance floor before turning and moving to go outside onto the veranda.

Tony shot a look back at his son, the expression on his face telling Peter to ‘stay the hell where you are’ before he walked outside into the fresh air.

“Want another?” The bartender smiled kindly at Peter when the kid downed the last of his juice. Peter nodded politely, watching as the young adult poured him a new drink with a new umbrella. This one was red unlike the blue one he’d had before.

“Thank you!” Peter smiled at the man when he walked off to serve someone else.

In all honesty, Peter was so bored. When his Dad had relented and allowed for Peter to come to the Gala tonight (after his random crying fit that even Peter wasn’t sure why he fell into), he’d thought that the Firefighter’s Family Fund gig would be more exciting than lame music and people talking in posh voices as they tried to subtly tell others about how rich they were. Now that he was here, Peter almost wishes he’s stayed home with Uncle Rhodey.

At least his Dad was here (kinda).

“You look very bored,” a woman’s voice sounded from behind him and Peter turned to see a pretty woman move to stand beside him at the bar. She was wearing a black dress with spaghetti straps and her blonde hair was tied up, her side fringe parted evenly and hanging loose.

Peter shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. The woman was really pretty and he could feel butterflies in his stomach as she smiled nicely at him.

“What you drinking?” The woman spoke again. “I hope nothing with alcohol.”

“My Dad would kill me if it did,” Peter’s voice was higher than it normally was and his cheeks became flushed with pink as the woman chuckled at him.

“Oh yeah?” She laughed. “That’s good; is your Dad here now?”

Peter nodded, his throat closing up so he couldn’t reply.

“Where is he?”

Peter shrugged, taking another sip so he could reply. Act cool, he told himself. Be like Dad. “He went outside.”

The woman looked in the direction that Tony had disappeared, not looking entirely happy. “Let’s hope he’s back soon so you’re not stuck with my company all night.”

“I like your company,” Peter squeaked.

The woman laughed again, her face lighting up at Peter’s innocent cuteness. “That’s good, i like yours too.” 

Peter smiled, the butterflies growing. “My name is Peter.”

“Christine,” the woman held her hand out and Peter felt awkward as he shook it. The woman— Christine— chuckled at his fumbling. “How old are you, Peter?”

“I’m 7!” He declared proudly, puffing chest out slightly with a large grin. He was a big boy now and he couldn’t wait to tell his best friend, Ned, about this pretty Christine.

“Wow,” Christine smirked, her eyes shining as she soaked in Peter’s adorable attitude. “You’re a big boy, aren’t you.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! I’m basically all grown,” he spoke with confidence. “My Dad doesn’t think so though.”

“Oh no?” Christine faked a frown. “Why’s that?”

“He says that i’m still his baby,” Peter wrinkled his nose in the way only a child could when talking about their parents. “But i’m so old now, he’s just living in denial.”

Christine chuckled. “That must be it.” 

They talked for a little longer, Christine asking about school and being slightly blown away when Peter managed to explain that was currently studying abstract algebra (“which is too easy really”) and that he was glad his Dad didn’t let him skip a grade because otherwise he never would’ve been friends with Ned. 

“And Chemistry is your favourite subject?” Christine’s eyebrows were raised as she waited for what she knew would be a yes. This kid was really something else. Normally, 7 year olds would say that Lunch was their favourite subject.

Peter nodded. “That or Physics— i can’t decide.”

“Wow, you’re a smart kid, Peter,” Christine smiled fondly at the boy.

“Isn’t he just,” Tony’s voice joined the conversation before he turned round to the bartender. “Two Vodka Martinis, extra dry, extra olives, extra fast. Make one of them dirty, will you.” He placed a note in one of the glasses as he turned to the pair.

Christine turned around from where her back was to him. The second their eyes met, Tony froze up like he’d just seen a ghost. Peter frowned as a look of panic crossed over his Dad’s face and Christine scoffed in an almost disbelieving way.

“Well, Tony Stark,” she spoke with slight attitude and a fake smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Tony’s expression went blank as he searched the woman’s face, a hand moving out as he took a guess at her name. “. . . Karen.”

“Christine,” she spoke over him. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here tonight. Can i at least get a reaction from you?”

“Panic,” Tony supplied, looking to the side and trying his best not to look at his young son’s confused face. “I would say panic . . .”

“Because i was referring to your company’s latest monstrosity,” Christine switched from nice and playful to Peter to buisness-like and cold to Tony. She was about to say more but Tony’s eyes made contact with his son’s and the little frown on his face managed to break the man’s heart. 

“What you drinking Pete?” Tony talked over her, hoping that if he nipped this conversation in the bud then the woman would shut up and not possibly give his son the wrong impression about his father and the legacy that Tony would be leaving behind for Peter.

“Juice!” Peter smiled, pointing at his Dad with a mischievous smile. “Not Vodka Mar-tiny.”

Tony let out a laugh at his son’s mispronunciation. 

Christine looked between the two with a frown. “You know each other?”

“Of course,” Tony nodded, for some reason he enjoyed the woman’s bafflement. It always confused people when they found out that Peter was his son, for they wondered how something as cute and adorable as Peter could come from Tony’s snarky, self-destructive, egotistical loins. 

“Dad’s my Dad,” Peter supplied, slurping down the last of his juice. He didn’t notice Christine’s eyebrows shoot up as she tried to process that information.

“You’re his father?” She frowned at the man she’s had a one night stand with only 3 months prior. It clicked in Christine’s brain that the LEGO’s she’d brushed over when getting kicked out of Tony’s house by Pepper early in the morning had probably been owned by the kid sitting before her.

Tony moved around her to stand beside Peter, the young boy yawning and leaning back on his stool so his back was pressed firmly against his father’s chest. His Dad placed a hand on Peter’s head, the boy looking content. 

“Yep,” Tony pronounced the ‘p’ loudly, ruffling the kid’s hair when he yawned again.

“Christine was super nice Dad,” Peter tilted his head up to look at his father. “She was asking me about school and Ned.”

Tony cleared his throat, sincerely wishing that his ex fling would leave them alone. It was extremely awkward standing here with her whilst his innocent and unaware son talked so highly about her.

“That’s, uhh, nice of her.”

“She’s so nice,” Peter repeated in a sort of dreamy way and Tony wanted to gag. Please can his son not develop a crush over a woman his father has already slept with and forgotten. 

“I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re his father,” Christine added, her eyes were squinted slightly as she looked at him the same way she had as she’d tried to call him out that night he’d taken her home from the ‘awards’ ceremony. 

“Well, it’s true,” Tony frowned at her. 

“From the way he talks about you, i really couldn’t have pictured it.”

Tony wanted to yell at the woman right then and there. Of course Peter saw him differently: to the rest of the world, Tony was a Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist but to Peter, he was just Dad. He’d hoped that he would have, at least, another 5 years before his son started to become aware about his father’s public nature and business and the cracks in their relationship would form. It seemed Christine Everheart was determined to make Peter see the truth far sooner.

“Dad’s super cool too,” Peter spoke up, oblivious to the tension between the adults. “Except today, he was mean today.”

“Mean how?” Christine frowned, looking like she was ready to call the police for child endangerment that very second.

Peter pouted in his trademark puppy-dog look way. “He spoiled Harry Potter.”

Tony rolled his eyes, brushing some of his kid’s fringe out of his face with a fond smirk. “We’ve already been over this Pete, you deserved it and i’m giving you ice-cream as an apology.”

Christine pulled a face like she couldn’t decide whether to speak up or not; Tony gave her a glare so she would keep her mouth shut. 

Peter let out another yawn, this one louder than the rest. “You tired buddy?” Tony lowered his voice, ignoring Christine as he spoke to his son. Peter nodded lethargically, his eyes already starting to fall close and Tony cringed as he noticed that the time was past 10— no wonder his kid was so tired when it was way over his bedtime. “You want to leave Pete?” Another nod.

Tony helped his kid get off the stool, catching Peter when he sleepily started to fall. The man sighed when he realised that his son was suddenly far too tired to walk (he never understood how one minute Peter could be full of energy and the next second, his kid would be half-asleep and unable to complete basic motor functions). It looked like tonight was no exception as Peter practically leaned into him, his legs refusing to move as his eyes slid shut.

Tony sighed as he lifted his son up with strength he was sure came with being a father. At 7, Peter was rather light, meaning that Tony could carry him with slightly more ease. The boy wrapped his legs around his father’s waist and his arms looped around Tony’s neck as his Dad held one arm under the kid’s bottom and the other around Peter’s back. The boy placed his head on Tony’s shoulder and the man was pretty sure, Peter was already fast asleep.

He was about to turn away and leave when Christine stepped forward. “Is this the kind of legacy you want your son to inherit?” She frowned as she pushed over pictures of destruction and his weapons being sold to terrorists, towards him. “Because something tells me that Peter isn’t the kind of kid who accept this.”

Tony glared at the pictures, his thoughts immediately screaming ‘and neither will i’. 

“I never approved these shipments,” Tony spat the words out as Christine levelled him with her own glare.

“Well, your company did.”

“I’m not my company.” He made a mental note to remember this conversation as he turned on his heel, his brain swarmed with horrible thoughts of black market dealings SI could be involved with that wasn’t just unethical but disgusting and war-mongering, just like Christine had said 3 months ago. 

His grip on Peter tightened as he walked outside, the paparazzi once again blinding him. Tony tried not to think about Christine’s words as he ignored the yells of journalist and desperate fans. Peter definitely wasn’t the type of kid to ignore things like this: his son had such a unbreakable moral compass that it even shocked Tony sometimes.

“Tony! My boy!” Obie yelled out from down the stairs, blocking Tony from making his quick exit to his sports car. Peter was starting to get heavy in his arms and the father just wanted to go home, put his kid to bed and mule over the earth-shattering possibility that SI might be involved in something Tony didn’t even want to think about.

“Obie not now,” Tony sighed as Peter stirred slightly, a slight whimper escaping the kid as the bright lights flashed repeatedly and the yells of reporters seemed to get louder. “Peter’s out of it and i just want to get home.”

“The kid tired himself out?” Obie spoke with no emotion or sympathy that it made Tony frown. His business partner and godfather had never been ecstatic over Peter’s existence, hardly every bringing the kid up or acknowledging him when he came over. Tony still remembered Obie’s words when Peter was placed in Tony’s custody after his mother had died. ‘You’ll regret this Tony, mark my words’, Obie had said with certainty.

To this day, almost 7 years after Peter was placed in his life, Tony still had no idea what Obie had been on about. Peter was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“Yeah and that’s why i need to get home,” Tony repeated himself, hoping Obie would get the hint from his tone that he really wasn’t in the mood. Especially after what Christine had implied.

“Come on, pose for one picture,” Obie wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulder so they were facing the press. He plastered a fake smile on his face, glad that Peter was hiding his own in Tony’s neck so his young son wouldn’t be on the front page tomorrow with his identity exposed.

“Obie,” Tony ground out, Peter’s body getting heavier each second, trying not to let the press see his bubbling anger. Something in the pit of his stomach seemed to tell him that everything Christine had been saying was going to lead back to the bald man beside him.

“We need to talk.”

“Of course my boy, place the kid down with someone and we can chat!” Obie smiled in his fake way. Tony knows how love looks when someone smiles at the person they care about, he sees it every day in Peter’s face and in pictures of him looking at Peter. Obie never has the look when he stares at Tony.

“No Obie; tomorrow.” Tony started to walk away, making it down the rest of the stairs towards his sports car where the valet stood with his keys. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

The bald man looked slightly confused, a frown on his face as Tony ignored him and unlocked the car, gently placing Peter into the passenger seat and buckling him in. He thanked the valet before getting into the driver side and shooting away from the terrible Gala.

Halfway into their driver home, Peter stirred, his little hands coming up to rub the sleep out of his eyes as he made a yawning sound.

“Hey bud,” Tony whispered, a hand coming away from the wheel to brush through Peter’s locks.

Peter hummed quietly, his voice so low that Tony almost missed it. “Ice-cream,” the boy muttered. “You promised.”

Tony smirked as he directed his route towards the nearest place that would sell ice-cream at this time of night. Tomorrow was going to be hell, Tony knew that for certain. He would have to speak to Christine again to gather all the information he could (apologise to Pepper for leaving her outside waiting for him) and confront Obie about any under-the-table deals the man may be involved in.

Yeah, tomorrow was going to suck. But tonight, Tony looked forward to eating ice-cream with his half-asleep son.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u liked it, i wanted to do the charity gala scene since forever and i finally had the perfect context 
> 
> comment ur love, love ya :))


End file.
